


The Beach Fic

by GertieCraign



Category: Supernatural
Genre: And Dean deserves to have nice things, Because a beach fic was requested, But only for like two minutes, Cas is in a very bad place, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Day At The Beach, Dean is a Genius, Declarations Of Love, Ellipsis Abuse, Everyone is freaking out, Except Dean who's on a beach, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Hellatus, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Michael is a dick, Mind Control, More canon characters appear at the end, Plot, Post-Episode: s13e23 Let the Good Times Roll, Re-enactments of past trauma FTW, Sort Of, Swearing, TFW 2.0 plus Mary are all geniuses, Temporary Character Death, brief mentions of suicidal ideation - canon typical, don't wanna spoil it in the characters declarations, then he's fine, this is SPN so that can happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-14 15:45:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14772497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GertieCraign/pseuds/GertieCraign
Summary: My Title-mojo is so very, very off these days.The tag for MCD is only there in case it's a major squick for anyone. The death lasts, like, a minute and a half and then he's back. It's all good. So...FYI.metarachel prompted us to write Beach Fics for the following tumblr post:michael knowing that the only way to keep dean quiet isn’t by torturing him into submission or sitting him in front of the boob tube, but by giving him his greatest desire. michael constructing this elaborate fantasy inside of dean’s head to keep him complacent—an endless summer day at the beach, where sam runs around with other people’s dogs and dean and cas flirt and drink el sol under the umbrella. the earth has been saved. they are retired. they are happy.Originally posted by: casthewiseSo...here's my attempt. I hope you all enjoy!PS: The entire first chapter has nothing to do with the beach, so...don't read it and think "that has nothing to do with the summary"...I promise...it will.





	1. The Bond Breaks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [metarachel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/metarachel/gifts).



 

“We’ve got a problem,” Mary announced, as she rushed into the library. Her face was flushed and she was slightly out of breath.

Sam pushed his laptop aside and immediately stood.

“What-”

“It’s Cas,” Mary interrupted. “Sam, we can’t let him go off on his own right now. He’s not ok.”

“Damn fool’s gonna get himself killed,” Bobby said, as he hurried in after her. “I told you he was gonna pop.”

Sam’s face went pale and his eyes darted between the two of them. He didn’t bother trying to get specifics.

“Where is he?” he asked.

“Dean’s room,” Mary said, and Sam immediately turned and headed toward his brother’s room at nearly a full run. “He says he has a lead on Michael, Sam, you have to stop him,” Mary called out to him before he disappeared down the side corridor.

“Can’t believe I’m actually worried about an _angel_ gettin’ killed,” Bobby grumbled. Mary turned a stern gaze on him. He held up his hands. “But I _am_ ,” he emphasized. “I _am_ worried. I know Cas is...different.”

“He’s family,” Mary declared and then immediately had to swallow the lump in her throat that she’d kept at bay until now. “And he’s in no shape to do this alone. Michael will kill him. And if Dean is still in there...still awake…” She blinked her eyes preemptively, trying to keep the tears in check. Then she shook her head and followed Sam.

Bobby sighed wearily. “Yeah,” he groaned as he strolled after her. “Yeah, I get it.”

 

* * *

 

Sam came to an abrupt halt outside his brother’s room. The door was open. Cas stood in front of Dean’s desk. He was finishing loading a magazine with what Sam could tell were angel-killing bullets. Dean’s duffel was on the bed, unzipped and stuffed full of weapons and assorted gear.

Sam gave his friend a quick once over, surprised by his appearance. Apparently Cas had chosen this moment to finally ditch his standard uniform. Dean’s drawers were all partially open. Cas had clearly gone through his wardrobe and found a pair of his older, baggier jeans and a black t-shirt. He was still wearing the same crappy slip-on boots, though, which wasn’t too surprising. Dean’s boots wouldn’t fit him. Cas’s vessel had some big feet.

“Cas?” Sam asked tentatively. Cas didn’t answer. He pushed the last round into the magazine, then slid the whole thing into Dean’s gun. He tucked the gun into the back of his jeans and then pulled on a flannel overshirt. He turned slightly and Sam could see he was wearing Dean’s hip holster with another gun and there was a scabbard on his belt, holding an ancient, curved dagger with a jeweled hilt. Cas snapped his right arm down and his blade fell into his hand. Satisfied with that result, he quickly pushed it back up his forearm and turned to toss two extra magazines into the duffel and zip it closed.

“What’s goin’ on?” Sam asked. He was on high alert and making no effort to hide it.

“I have a lead on Michael’s location,” Cas said flatly.

“And you’re planning on doing what, exactly?” Sam noticed which weapons were missing from Dean’s wall and realized Cas had some extremely powerful gear in that bag. His mind raced trying to remember if Cas had ever even tried to use any of that stuff. Cas was smart, sure...he’d figure it out, but some of those guns weren’t exactly intro-level firearms. Dean had converted one of them to fully automatic, recently. If Cas had thrown that thing into the bag loaded…

“What’s going on,” Jack asked as he ran up to Sam’s left. He looked through the door and saw Cas. “They’re saying you’re leaving. You’re going after Michael,” he said, not trying to hide the shock in his voice.

“Yes.” Cas continued to pack items into side pockets on both the bag and Dean’s olive military jacket. “I’m ending this before he kills anyone else.”

“You don’t even have a weapon that can kill him,” Sam reminded him.

“These weapons might slow him down. He’ll still have his archangel blade. If I can take it from him, I can kill him.” Cas’s tone was eerily flat and he still hadn’t even looked at either of them.

“I’m coming with you,” Jack announced.

“No, you’re not,” Cas said. “You’re staying here and letting your grace restore itself.”

“I’m not letting you fight him alone!” Jack demanded.

Cas roughly pulled on Dean’s jacket, then turned to level a terrifying look at Jack. The kid immediately shrank back, afraid of his friend for the first time. Even Sam recoiled slightly.

“You’re staying here,” Cas repeated. He re-situated the jacket until it was laying properly and then picked up the bag and headed toward the two of them.

Jack backed up, leaving a small gap in the doorway and Cas aimed for that. Sam moved a few inches to fill it, blocking Cas’s path completely. He took a deep breath, standing up straighter and expanding his chest to make himself as large and imposing as possible.

“Move,” Cas quietly demanded, glaring at his friend.

Sam stared him down. His expression held every bit the love and empathy he felt while still making it clear he had no intention of moving.

“Cas, I get it. I do. But you gotta-” That was all he got out before he felt a deep thud in the center of his chest that sent him reeling back a couple of feet. The burst of angelic power was obviously not intended to hurt, but the shock of it momentarily winded him. He coughed a few times and Cas strolled out of the bedroom.

Jack leapt another foot or so out of the way, to avoid being mowed down in the corridor. Once Cas had passed, he began tentatively following him.

“I said, No!” Cas barked over his shoulder, halting Jack mid-stride. Cas kept walking.

“You’ve got the fully automatic in it’s carrying case, right? Not jostling around loose in that bag with all the other weapons? So you don’t hit a bump in the road and unload a hail of gunfire into the car next to you? Or the shops you’re passing by?” Sam nearly yelled. His voice had lost its softness. He was now barking at his friend exactly the way he usually did at Dean, whenever his brother tried to pull a similarly suicidal, bullshit move.

Cas continued all the way to the end of the adjacent corridor and was about to turn toward the garage, when he stopped. He stood very still for a moment, then took another half step toward the garage and stopped again, letting out a very heavy sigh. He slumped and let his head fall back.

“I’m not gonna try to stop you. I can tell that’s not gonna work. So, just...let me check the bag, Cas,” Sam said, returning to a much softer approach. “I’ll get it packed safe, ok?”

Cas slowly turned. Then began walking back toward them, even more slowly.

Sam moved toward him, meeting him halfway. Mary came with him.

Cas sheepishly handed the bag over and Mary motioned back down the corridor for Jack and Bobby to step out of the potential line of fire. They ducked back around the corner.

With the bag open on the floor, Sam quickly unpacked each gun and checked it. Mary identified three that needed a case and hurried off to Dean’s room.

“You picked good ones,” Sam quietly praised, as he continued to check them. “Probably the best we’ve got. But...you’re gonna need different ammo for a couple of ‘em. What you’ve got loaded…” He sighed heavily and scratched at his jaw. “Look, Cas...I know you know how to use some of these, but a couple of ‘em are pretty different. Why don’t we take this stuff to the firing range. I’ll show you how to get ‘em loaded right. How to use ‘em-”

“I’m leaving, Sam,” Cas said flatly.

Mary returned just then with the cases.

“Yeah,” Sam argued, “but if you just wait half an hour, I can-”

Cas grabbed Sam by the front of his shirt and jerked him up from a sitting position. He slammed his friend into the wall and leaned heavily against him. Sam raised his hands, instinctively holding the pistol he still had in his hand so that it pointed at the ceiling.

“Whoa! Hey!” Mary shouted. She pulled the bag away from both of them and swept the loose weapons aside with one arm.

Cas’s face was only a couple of inches from Sam’s. He snarled wildly at him and a brief flash of grace shone from his eyes.

“Easy,” Sam soothed.

“I can’t feel him,” Cas growled. Sam started to lose his footing and slide, so Cas hoisted him up again.

“Hey!” Mary shouted directly into Cas’s ear from just a few inches away. He snapped his head to look at her and the same glow of grace appeared in his eyes. Mary swallowed and steeled herself. “Knock it off!” she demanded.

His grace got brighter and more threatening for just a split second and then he backed it all the way off. He was still looking at her when the rage began to crack. The emotions underneath were clearly more than he could continue to keep in check.

“Just take it easy, Cas. We all get it,” she said and reached up to give his arm a squeeze.

“I can’t feel him anymore,” Cas repeated. This time his voice had a tremor.

“What does that mean? Feel him how?” Sam asked. He was still pinned to the wall, but he wasn’t worried about it anymore.

“I’ve always been able to feel him. Only him. I can’t explain it.”

“So...what does that mean?” Mary asked, clearly fearing the answer. “You...you’ve thought he was gone before. That he was dead when he was sent to kill the, um...Amara… Did you not feel him then?”

“I still felt him. I thought...maybe his soul had gone to Heaven and that’s why I could still feel… When he became a demon, I could feel the corruption. It’s...it’s his soul…”

“You can sense his soul? Just...all the time?” Sam asked, trying to clarify.

Cas nodded. And then looked at Sam with eyes panicked and wild, and brimming with tears. “In the kitchen, earlier...you asked me what was wrong…” He swallowed and the first tear made its way down his cheek. “He was gone. I can’t feel him anymore. The place in me where he’s always been there’s...nothing.”

“Maybe...Michael can...I dunno...put some kind of protection around himself or-” Mary said, but Cas cut her off.

“It’s his soul! I can’t feel his soul anymore. You can’t…” he huffed in annoyance, and let go of Sam’s shirt. Taking a few steps away from both of them, he ran his hands over his face, then through his hair. “You can’t hide a soul. You can’t...wrap it up or cloak it. If a soul is…’visible’ in whatever way…” He stopped and thought for a moment, then turned back to them.

“He’s gone. Michael, in his cruelty…has destroyed Dean’s mind _and his soul_. _He’s gone!_ And I’ll never…” He stopped talking and stared at the floor.

There was a long pause when no one spoke. Sam and Mary both absorbed what Cas was saying. It was the worst case scenario and neither of them was prepared to accept it just yet, no matter what Cas said - even though they both knew he was probably right.

“Yeah,” Sam breathed and squatted down to start re-packing the bag with the weapons that were safe and properly loaded. A moment later, Mary joined him, unloading the most dangerous guns and storing them in their cases. She stuffed several additional packs of ammo in her jacket - which no one seemed to notice she was now wearing.

“Well...then I guess we know what we need to do,” Sam said as he finished up. “I mean...Cas, I really do think we should stay here and see if we can come up with a better way to take him out, but if you’re gonna go no matter what I say…” He stood, pulling the bag off the floor and slinging it over his shoulder. “Then I’m coming with you.”

“You have to stay here,” Cas stated, barely looking at Sam. “You have to care for Jack. He needs you.”

“I’ll go,” Mary said and she reached up and tugged the bag off of Sam’s shoulder. He looked at her in shock, mental gears spinning to come up with an argument against it. He’d actually been midway through a plan to convince Cas to stay and her volunteering smashed it.

“Then I’m comin’ too,” Bobby’s voice boomed down the corridor.

“No...you’re not,” Mary countered.

“The hell I ain’t!”

“Your people need you, Bobby, you can’t just leave them.” She saw the arguments coming from both of them and held up her hands. “Look...Cas needs to do this. I get it... and honestly, I agree with him. If Dean really is gone…” She stopped and took a long, deep breath, “then we need to kill this son of a bitch. Soon.” She turned to look at Cas. “But we’re gonna come up with a better plan on the way there. Better than just, ‘storm the castle and hope he gets sloppy.’ Aren’t we Cas?” she asked, making it clear he needed to agree with her.

Cas hesitated for only a moment, before nodding once and then turning to stare off toward the garage.

“And that’s where you guys come in,” she finished, looking at Sam, Bobby, and poor Jack who’d stayed back by the curve in the corridor as he’d been told. He was seconds away from tears again and Mary had to stop looking at him.

“We’re on it,” Sam murmured with a stiff nod.

Mary reached forward and pulled him in for a hug. “We’ll have our phones on the whole time. We’ll make sure we answer. Call as soon as you find anything.”

Again Sam nodded. And sniffed. He was starting to crack. The reality of what he’d just heard and witnessed was finally starting to sink in. Dean was probably dead, Cas had finally snapped, and his mom was about to accompany him on what was clearly a suicide mission. And even though he could tell from Mary’s subtle, cagey looks that she had her own plan up her sleeve and would not, in fact, allow Cas to go through with this insanity, Sam was still feeling fairly bleak about everything.

“I’ll text you from the road,” Mary said, handing the duffel to Cas so she could pick up her go bag - another item no one noticed she’d brought back with her. Sam looked at the bag and furrowed his brow. Mary caught his eye and gave him a solid wink, as soon as she was certain Cas wasn’t looking. Then she pat his arm and caught up with Cas, who’d already started walking toward the garage.

“Hey...you wanna get there quick, right?” she asked Cas. He nodded. “So how about you give me back the keys you swiped outta my room, Slick? I’m drivin’.”

Cas’s epic frown somehow deepened, but he pulled out the keys and handed them to her as they both made their way through the door to the stairwell leading to the garage.

Sam sighed when the door to the stairwell clicked shut. He bent down and collected the few guns they’d removed from the bag and the clips filled with the wrong ammo and headed back toward Dean’s room.

“You really just gonna let ‘em go?” Bobby asked. He looked like he was very close to running down the corridor after Mary.

“She’s got it covered, Bobby.”

“Castiel… He looks… It’s like he _wants_ to die,” Jack said. He turned his confused, heartbroken gaze to Sam for an explanation.

Sam stared at him...then at Bobby. Both were looking at him for answers and he wondered for the thousandth time why anyone thought he had them. All he wanted to do was save Dean. Yes, and kill Michael and save the world from destruction again, but really Dean came first. So, if Dean really was dead…

“You heard her,” he said as he tossed the weapons and ammo on Dean’s bed and came back out into the hallway. “And she’s right. We need get on it...find a way to kill him.”

“So you think...Dean…” Jack couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I think...until we know for sure, we need to assume he’s still in there,” Sam said as he turned and headed toward the library. “In the meantime...we’ve got work to do.”

 

* * *

 

Sam forced himself to wait one full hour before pulling up the GPS tracking app and looking for his mom’s phone’s location. He had to look at the map a few times to make sure what he was seeing was right. Then he zoomed in on the dot and switched to a standard satellite image. Mary and Cas appeared to have stopped on the side of a farm road, only about twenty minutes away.

Sam’s stomach sank and he rushed to send her a text.

     _‘Are you ok?’_

There was a short delay, but then the dots appeared at the bottom of his screen, letting him know she was typing a reply (or someone was - please, please let it not be some bad guy with an attitude who’d waylayed them both!)

     _‘We’re good. Talking. Change of plans. Be home in a while.’_

The dots appeared again, so Sam waited.

     _‘Gonna swing by the store. Need anything?’_

Sam grinned at the same time he let out a huge sigh of relief. His mom was amazing - she could talk down a damned hurricane - but that text was absurdly normal in the current situation.

He almost sent, ‘We’re good’ but deleted it and instead typed,

     _‘Ibuprofen. And coffee.’_

     _‘You got it.’_

 


	2. The Beach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Cas says something in Spanish. It indirectly translates to: "You're spoiling us. We may never leave." 
> 
> Please see end notes for love and shout outs.
> 
> Sorry for the delay, folks. I've had to stop takin' Adderall for a while and WHOO-BOY the withdrawal is kickin' my ass! Also...there's totally a reason I need to take Adderall, so THAT is kickin' my ass, too. But...eh...I'll live. I'm just super slooooowww and sleeeeeeeeepy...kinda like a sloth. (It just occurred to me I'm probably a really sorry sight right now, as well, but I'm honestly too tired to care. LOL)
> 
> Enjoy the chapter. I'll try my best to get another one up soon. :-D

 

 

It was the smell that caught his attention and made him open his eyes. The sounds had been pleasant as well, but the smell of the ocean breeze - clean, salty and humid...that’s what brought him fully awake. The air moved over him in a steady flow, taking away the sharp heat from the surrounding sand and rock.

He lay in absolute comfort in a lounge chair, under the protection of a large canopy, and for a moment he was so relaxed, he was convinced he didn’t have a body at all. That is until he felt a gentle tap on the back of his hand and fingers encircling his wrist.

“Don’t scratch,” Cas’s voice said from somewhere to his left. Dean felt his hand being tugged away from his forehead...which he’d apparently been scratching. He hadn’t noticed. “The doctor said the stitches could come out in a few more days. The itching should subside then. I could put a bit more cream on it and change the bandage? It might help.”

“The doctor?” Dean asked. He was more and more awake with each passing second. He reached up again to feel at his forehead. Cas tried to stop him but Dean brushed his hand away. He felt at the bandage covering a fairly large section of his scalp. And then he felt the rest of his head...which was bald.

“Shit! Where’s my hair?!”

Cas squinted at him for a brief second before he let out a long sigh. “You’ve forgotten again.”

“Forgotten what?” Dean demanded. “Forgot I shouldn’t get drunk and pass out when Sam’s pissed at me? Wait...is Sam pissed at me? Why? What’d-” He stopped short and took a good look around. The beach. They were on a beach. “Uh…” he groaned, trying to piece together where the hell he was and how he’d gotten there.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Cas asked. He positioned himself on the side of his own lounge chair, elbows resting on his knees, leaning forward and obviously trying to catch Dean’s gaze.

Dean looked over at him and was about to respond, but he took in Cas’s appearance and stopped short. Cas was shirtless, in long swim trunks, hair spiked in every direction. He must have covered every inch of exposed skin in coconut oil because he was glistening slightly in the light reflecting off of the sand around them. And he smelled the way Heaven really ought to smell - the breeze was sending wafts of it into Dean’s nose and making him giddy.

Cas’s skin was much darker...beautifully bronzed instead of his normal shade of mildly-tanned-white-guy. The oil and the dark color had a lovely highlighting effect on his well defined muscles. His cloaking tattoo blended into his abs a bit better... He looked fantastic.

Dean let his eyes rake over his friend’s body, until he caught himself and looked away. He tried to sit up straighter.

“Easy,” Cas cautioned, putting his hand on Dean’s shoulder to coax him back down into the deep lean of the chair. “You still need to rest. And don’t worry...you’re not going to miss out on the vacation. Sam’s booked us here almost indefinitely. There’ll be plenty of time for you to enjoy yourself after you’ve healed.”

“Where _are_ we?” Dean asked, looking around again. He noticed Sam and Jack tossing a frisbee back and forth about fifty yards away, right near the waterline. They were smiling, and laughing whenever the breeze caught the disk and sent one of them scrambling across the sand after it. The ocean behind them was absolutely stunning. Clouds were on the horizon, blocking what would have been an uncomfortably bright sun beginning to set. The sky was ablaze through the clouds and casting a fabulous array of colors onto the water and everything else.

“Sam found us a cabin at a resort just north of Puerto Vallarta. This is our own private beach.” Cas smiled softly and looked around. His eyes landed on Sam and Jack as well, and his smile grew. “They’ve been playing all day. Jack has so much energy. It’s good Sam is in excellent physical condition. He’d never be able to keep up otherwise.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean grunted as he wriggled into a less prone sitting position. Cas reached for him again, ready to assist, if needed. “I guess eatin’ all that gross crap and runnin’ for no good reason finally paid off. Totally not worth it, but...eh…”

Dean looked down at himself and frowned. He was fully dressed - but in a really strange suit he didn’t recognize at all. He blinked, trying to figure out why he’d be wearing anything even remotely like this outfit at all, much less at the beach.

“What’s with the weird monkey-suit?” He let his hands run over the front of the vest until his fingers caught in a light chain at the bottom. “What the f- _a pocket watch?!_ ”

“Dean…” Cas grabbed his forearm to get his attention. “Try to focus. What’s the last thing you remember?”

Dean looked at Cas blankly for a moment and then turned his gaze to the underside of the canopy, thinking. “I remember Michael goin’ back on our deal and...uh…” He squinted, trying to remember. Then his face went pale and he swallowed. “I remember, uh...gettin’ sorta...yanked back. Like I was me but I was separate from me...somehow. I mean, I guess it makes sense. He took over. I, uh...I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t...do anything.”

He swallowed again and looked down at his hands, almost desperate to see them move under his own direction. He blinked in shock. The weird suit was gone and he was now dressed in his typical hunting gear, boots and all.

“What the-”

“But you _did_ stop him,” Cas said, his soft smile returning.

Another waft of Castiel and coconut passed under Dean’s nose. It was a glorious scent - impossible to ignore. He breathed it in deeply.

“You tricked him,” Cas continued. “Distracted him for just long enough for you to overpower him.” His smile grew wide and he just barely chuckled. “Once again, you managed to do the impossible, my friend.”

“Yeah, ok...I’ll, uh...I’ll take your word for it. Cas...I was in a _suit_ a second ago.”

“What?” Cas asked, squinting.

“I had on some sort of weird suit, like...five seconds ago and now I’m...wait, why the hell am I wearin’ all _this_ on the beach? What’s goin on-”

“Dean, look at me,” Cas said as he reached out and took hold of Dean’s hand.

Surprised and confused, Dean obeyed, and as soon as he did, his vision became a little fuzzy.

“You suffered serious brain trauma. You’re still healing. Visual and auditory hallucinations, as well as memory lapses...that’s all been part of the healing process over the last few weeks, so just...stay calm.”

Dean reached up again and felt at the bandage. Cas gently took that hand as well and held them both.

“Huh,” Dean barely grunted and his vision cleared. He continued to stare at Cas, once again mesmerized by how great he looked. He’d never seen him look this good. Cas was a handsome guy. That had never gone unnoticed, but the way he looked here and now was almost hard to believe. It was like some guru had given him a make-over and tossed him into a photo shoot for _PlayGirl: Beach Fantasy Edition_. He looked happy, relaxed and hot as hell and Dean really wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that whole train of thought.

Cas let his thumbs glide across Dean’s knuckles a few times, and gave his hands an affectionate squeeze.

This was new - Dean’s eyes went wide and he scrambled to get the conversation back onto catching him up on current events...because he was really tempted to pull Cas close and kiss him and he was terrified that impulse control might also be on that list of shit he wasn’t doin’ so good with these days.  

He cleared his throat. “So, where’s that lyin’ son of a bitch now?”

“Dead,” Cas stated, matter-of-fact. He gave Dean’s hands one more squeeze and let go, leaning back and letting out a long, satisfied sigh.

“How,” Dean asked.

“You took control. Ejected him. I had a trap prepared. The moment you were free, you tossed me the archangel blade, and…” Cas made a vague gesture with his hand, “...that was it.”

“That easy, huh?”

“Well, I’d hardly say any of it was _easy_ , but...yeah. Once you were able to regain control... It really did come down to you, Dean. And you managed to work a miracle, the way you always do.”

Dean cleared his throat and leaned his head back, neither acknowledging nor refuting the compliment in the hopes that Cas would stop saying things that made it sound like he was awesome. He wasn’t. He’d let Michael in in the first place. If he’d managed to kick the twisted bastard out so Cas could kill him, well then he was just cleaning up his mess. You don’t get a medal for fixing a fuck up.

“Perdón. Don Castiel?” a rich, sonorous voice said from somewhere to Dean’s right.

Dean turned, and the focus of his entire existence immediately narrowed down to the lovely vision before him.

A dark-haired goddess in her late-twenties, who apparently had the task of catering to the Winchester party, stood a respectful distance away, waiting for her cue to approach. In one arm, she was expertly carrying a large tray filled with drinks, ice and a colorful array of fresh fruits, seafood and other goodies. In her other hand, she was carrying a first-aid kit and a small brown pouch that Dean recognized as his own grooming kit. He wrinkled his brow at that for half a second, before getting back to the business at hand - shameless flirting.

“ _Hola!_ ” Dean crooned with a smile that would likely glow in the dark. He didn’t even bother trying to take his eyes off of her. She was his uber-type: tall, toned, exuding confidence without saying a word, and rockin’ one hell of a figure. He had to swallow to keep from drooling.

She looked at him and smiled. The breeze picked up just then, sending long tendrils of her silky hair slithering across her bare shoulder and neck. The gauze ruffles on her modest dress fluttered dreamily.

Dean took a deep breath and sighed. The backdrop of pastel sky and the soft lighting made her look even more like she’d just stepped out of the best Playboy short he’d ever read.

His brow wrinkled. Why was he thinking so much about skin mags?

“Señora Daniella,” Cas called to her, and motioned for her to approach. He stood, quickly moving the extra towels from the side table and then reaching to assist her with the tray as soon as she came close.

Dean started to get up, but Cas’s hand clamped onto his shoulder like a vice, pushing him back down. He winced slightly. His friend’s grip was a little tighter than was absolutely necessary... And he could have done without the extra shove once he was down.

“Gracias,” Cas said, relieving her of the tray with a nod and a grateful smile. “Nos consiente demasiado, Señora. Es posible que nunca nos vayamos.”

Daniella flashed him a stunning smile and answered with the most melodic Spanish Dean had ever heard. She set the kit on the blanket next to Dean’s chair and motioned toward him. “Señor Dean…” she said, and gently patted his shoulder, then turned her attention back to Cas and continued her lovely conversation. Dean picked up some of it...something about her home being good and that she was happy about seeing _him_. That last part got his attention. He ignored the rest.

Cas smiled and nodded, then looked at Dean. “She said, being here at her home agrees with you. She’s happy to see you looking so healthy and well rested.”

“Ah,” Dean said, nodding his full agreement. “Si. Si. Tell her...It must be the beautiful scenery.” He leaned toward her, almost leering in his attempt to convey his meaning.

Daniella smiled hugely at him and giggled. She shook her head. “Si, Senor Dean. My husband thinks so, too.” Again, she patted his shoulder and then looked back at Cas. The two of them continued their conversation, while Dean absorbed the hit and dialed back the schmooze.

Daniella picked up the smaller tray that had been stacked on top of the larger one and began carrying it away. She looked back at Dean and Cas and gave them another stunning smile. “Buenas noches,” she cooed, then turned and strode toward Sam and Jack.  

Dean watched her go, enjoying the view. He let out another heavy sigh and took one of the fruity drinks off of the tray. “Wow,” he quietly exclaimed.

“She is...very attractive,” Cas said with a smile as he sat back down. He also chose a drink and took a sip before reaching down to retrieve Dean’s grooming kit. “And a lovely person. She and her husband Carlos have been wonderful hosts. The eight of us have spent several evenings together...talking, playing cards, sharing a meal...” he snorted softly. “There’s always food. An endless supply, it seems. I don’t know how they manage it.”

From somewhere behind them, a rush of panting fur shot past, completely ignoring them and pausing only for one beat when it caught up to Daniella. She looked down and spoke to her beautiful golden retriever, before the hyper beast continued. The dog made a bee line for Sam and Jack and reached them well ahead of her human friend. The two of them greeted her enthusiastically. She instantly became the third player in the frisbee game, which they halted when Daniella finally arrived with the tray.

Dean smiled, watching his brother fawn all over that dog. Then his brow furrowed again.

“Wait,” Dean squinted at Cas. “The eight of us?”

“Carlos and Daniella, you, me, Sam, Jack, Mary and Bobby.”

“Bobby’s here, too?” Dean asked, perking up a bit more. “Where’s mom, anyway?” He scanned the beach.

“She and Bobby went for a walk about half an hour ago. They should be back, soon.”

Dean looked at him again, still squinting, then he let his eyes drop away as he tried to remember. “How long have we been here?”

“Nearly a month.” Cas shifted to get a bit closer. “Let’s get that bandage changed.” He opened Dean’s grooming kit and pulled out a small cup, the shaving brush, and the straight razor.

“I gotta shave to get a new bandage?” Dean asked. He reached up and dragged his hand over his jaw and chin.

“Just the area around the wound. It’ll keep it from itching so badly.”

“No way! I want my hair back! It can itch.”

“I can give you your hair back immediately, once my grace has been restored.”

“What happened to your grace?” Dean asked, instantly looking a lot more concerned.

“It was damaged in the fight. It’s fine, Dean. It will restore itself and my abilities will return. I’ll be able to heal any of your remaining injuries _and_ I’ll give you back your hair.”

“The fight with Michael?” Dean asked to confirm.

Cas hummed and nodded.

Dean watched him lay out the shaving items and the new bandage, wet wipes, antibiotic cream, anti-itch cream...the whole nine yards.

He smiled. Cas always did go a bit overboard whenever he saw a need he could fill. And as much as Dean hated to admit it, it was nice to be properly coddled once in a while, especially if he had a really serious injury and felt like he could justify it to himself and the world.

Cas moved the towel holding all of the supplies onto the side of Dean’s chair. Dean let his gaze follow...which is when he noticed he was now wearing a tank top and long sleeved gauze shirt, long cargo shorts...and he was barefoot.

He blinked and furrowed his brow again. He was about to blurt out another shocked question, but then he remembered...brain trauma. Right. At least he didn’t look like an idiot who didn’t know what to wear to the beach anymore. He plucked at the sleeve, staring at it like maybe it could answer some unspoken questions.

Cas removed the bandage very carefully, while Dean watched Jack and his brother chat with Daniella. Jack was smiling at her almost non-stop, which made Dean wonder if the kid was finally starting to notice girls. If he weren’t trying to hold still for Cas, he’d have shaken his head. It was bizarre to think of the son of Satan getting bashful around a pretty woman.

Sam kept breaking whatever he was eating in half and giving some to the dog. That did get a head shake - because Sam was a sucker. A giant, deadly, fluffy-haired sucker.

His attention was brought back to the angel tending to him when he heard the quick clicks of the shaving brush blending the cream and hitting the sides of the cup. He wondered when Cas had learned to shave this way...and then he wondered how many times in the last month Cas had done this for him...and then he wondered just exactly how much he’d forgotten.

Cas quickly coated all of Dean’s head with shaving cream.

“Guess it makes sense to do the whole thing, huh?” Dean mumbled, sounding extremely remorseful. Cas smiled and softly snorted a laugh.

“I know you don’t like the way this looks. You don’t want to be... _older_ -Bruce Willis just yet,” Cas continued to grin as he used the straight razor to very carefully shave around Dean’s wound. “But I don’t know why you’re so worried. It’s just your family around you at the moment. They love you, no matter the quantity of hair on your head. And Daniella and Carlos have never seen you any other way, so...they have nothing to compare it to.”

Dean grunted a response that was somewhere between a ‘yeah’ and just a general noise of disgust, but he continued to hold still and let the angel shave him.

Cas stood and moved to a position behind Dean. He gently nudged his friend’s head forward and shaved the back in short order, before moving to the other side.

“And of course... _I’ll always_ love you...no matter your physical appearance or age or...whatever may come.” He slid his hand under Dean’s chin to tilt his head, and he let his fingers gently caress his neck. He pet his cheek with his thumb and smiled down at him. “My feelings for you will never change,” he said with a level of gravitas and sincerity that sent Dean’s adrenals into overdrive.

“Uhhmm…” Dean mumbled.

Cas made two more passes across the top of Dean’s head with the razor, and then paused. He leaned forward, trying to see Dean’s face.

Dean clenched. He could see Cas in his peripheral vision and he specifically did not look at him.

“Dean?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, um…” Dean barely said. He fidgeted with his hands, then gripped the arms of the chair until his knuckles turned white.

Cas completed the final few passes with the razor very quickly. He wiped away the excess cream, then moved to sit on the edge of Dean’s chair, facing him. He let one hand rest on Dean’s chest and the other on his face.

Dean stared back at him in open panic.

Cas’s face fell. He slumped. “You don’t remember... _us_ ,” he asked, more as a statement than a question.

Dean managed to lock up even tighter. “I, uh…” He swallowed again.

Cas sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, um… _’spring it’_ on you. The last time you forgot some of what’s happened, you still retained your memory of our newly initiated intimacy. I thought this time would be the same.” He noticed where his hands were and immediately withdrew them. “Forgive me. I, um… I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He dropped his gaze and rested his hands in his lap - and immediately began fidgeting.

Dean continued to stare. He made a few tiny noises as aborted attempts at speech, but that was pretty much all he had to give back at the moment.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my betas for this chapter: (on AO3) omgbubblesomg, metarachel, and (on tumblr) sass-ishmoon.  
> Bubbles is used to me by now and still actually volunteers to read my initial drafts. She is a saint.  
> Rachel got to listen to me bitch about my bad habit of POV switching, and then found out why I was bitching, because there were several in this chapter she caught. LOL Good grief...eventually I'll be able to spot them myself, I swear.  
> And 'Moon' was a stranger until just a few days ago, but she was kind enough to not only discuss the nuance of Spanish culture, language and etiquette with me, but actually read the chapter and did the work of editing my Spanish for me. It was EXTREMELY helpful to have someone read the whole chapter and see the way I was using 'Senor/Senora' and 'Don' in context. I'm pretty sure I'd been explaining it badly to everyone who'd tried to help.  
> Huge love and shout out to the folks who stepped in and tried to help me via tumblr posts: hazeldomain for sending out the word that I needed help to her much bigger group of followers, and duustbunny and superflyfrenzy for being awesome and sending me advice. I hope all of you will be happy with how this turned out. I seriously would not have been able to include any of this stuff without some help and verification, 'cause I was too worried it was gonna be stupid or even worse - insulting in a way I wouldn't understand until after I'd thrown it out into the world. I couldn't have that!  
> Oh...and also, a thank you shout out to Bubbles' flatmate. He chipped in, too! Thanks, dude!  
> You all are the best!  
> *smooch*


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